Spilt Ink
by RedCakeband
Summary: Elena and Rufus meet for the first time under unusual circumstances...


_Damn!_

I hear the president curse. I'm sitting in what can only be described as an ante-room. I'm confined here until Reno or Rude relieves me, but I'm not expecting them for at least another five hours. Guard duty. Tseng made it sound like such an honour when he briefed me late last night. He said it was an ideal way for me to prove my worth at guarding the most valuable asset that our company has. He never mentioned the tedium that I'd have to experience. Or the abuse I'd have to put up with.

_Turk! Get in here. NOW!_

Our glorious president can't even remember my name. No doubt I exist only in his mind as one of the innumerable blondes that the company has employed over the year. I harbour a suspicion that only my blue suit marks me as a different sort of blonde. Since I've started this so-called mission, the president has thrown a mug of molten hot coffee over me; grabbed my ass too many times to count and made lewd suggestions of what he'd like to do to me if he ever gets me alone and out of my uniform. A charming man in his own misogynistic, warped way.

I take my time responding to his summons. All the while wondering exactly how much trouble I would end up in if I 'accidentally' put a bullet in his skull.

_Mr President. You called for me?_

I adopt my usual mission demeanour: eager to please but slightly naïve. Most Turks are so hardened by what they have seen and been ordered to do in the line of duty, my apparent vapid personality is a novelty. My sweetness can be misleading; can lull people into a false sense of security. I've never been seen as a threat. People enjoy confiding in me as they see me as harmless. Then I strike and silence them forever. It's a useful survival skill.

I walk into the president's office. It's easily the biggest room I've ever seen. I particularly like the panoramic windows. You can see the whole world from up here. I snuck up here just before dawn this morning so I could look at the sky. It was so beautiful; I was reluctant to leave when the sun began to rise. But masters must be obeyed. I paid for it dearly, but it was worth it.

The president is clearly very distressed. He appears to have spilt ink all down his front. A deep navy is slowly seeping into the wildly expensive burgundy suit that he inexplicably favours. With his colouring, you would expect blue would look better on him. But then he might be mistaken for a Turk and God knows - no one wants that.

I smother a laugh and rush over to help him.

I grab a rag that has been draped over one of his many drinks cabinets. Probably a remnant of this morning's polishing. In any case it's pretty damn handy to have at this moment. The president is trying to clean himself down with his breast handkerchief. It's doing a poor job as it's already turned from pure starched white to blue. The damage to the front of the suit hardly seems to have changed.

I approach our glorious leader and begin to dab at his suit. It's utterly ruined. There's no way he'll be able to get this ink out.

_Oh sir. I'm sorry but I can't seem to save your clothes. Perhaps you ought to change your suit._

I'm so absorbed in the task of trying to soak up as much ink as I can; I miss the closed fist that strikes me right on the jaw. I'm so shocked by the impact that I lose my balance and all flat on my back. Highly embarrassing. Anger floods into me. How dare he strike me when all I was doing was trying to help!

_You stupid Turk. Of course I plan on changing my clothes. You will accompany me to my private quarters and stand guard outside. I do not want to hear one more irritating word out of your foolish mouth. Are we clear?_

I manage to put my private thoughts of smashing in his skull with a golf club on hold long enough to reply.

_Certainly sir._

I follow him to his living quarters all the while thinking up gruesome punishments and retribution. I'm never taking guard duty again. I will fight Tseng to make sure that I don't ever have to deal with this man. The coffee I could deal with. Ditto the groping and horrible flirty behaviour. But I will not tolerate this unnecessary strike on my face. The president is in deep trouble.

I maintain the standard four steps behind him as I follow. I probe around in my mouth to make sure my teeth are all still intact. One of my molars is feeling a little loose. Damn it! I'll need to sweet talk Reno so he can cast a Cure spell on me. Oh how fun! No doubt I'll have to play strip poker with him again. My tooth is beginning to throb. What the hell, I'll take my chances with him when I'm relieved.

Thankfully, I don't have to get in an elevator with the president. I fear that his rage could manifest itself _unpleasantly_. I fear that a possible broken tooth could pale into insignificance if the president gets his hands on me. I know only too well what he'd like to do …

We reach his quarters. He sweeps into his private sanctum without a word or cursory glance in my direction. I sink into the handily placed chair and cradle my jaw. Damn that bastard in his burgundy finery. Damn him to the pit of hell. It's taken me this long to realise that my cheeks are wet. I've been crying and I never even noticed. How irritating.

_Excuse me, are you alright?_

A young man in a white suit is in front of me. He's tall and blonde. A shotgun is held in a holder next to his right thigh. His face is smooth and unblemished. His eyes are an icy blue colour. I realise immediately who he is.

_Mr Vice-President. Sir. Yes. I'm fine. _

I try to smile but my toothache has manifested and is now occupying my entire mouth. The pain is excruciating. This is going to be an unpleasant few hours. I begin to cry again.

_Father did this to you._

It's not a question. It's more of a resigned statement; barely concealing his distaste for his father's methods. I must admit I'm impressed. This is the first time I've met the Vice President. Oh I've heard the rumours. I've heard that he has a heart of ice and a steely determination. I've heard that he is as deadly as he is attractive. And I've also heard that the company ladies refer to him as an emotional eunuch. A harsh, damming description if ever there was one.

I take a moment to remove my hand from my jaw and look up at him. He's young. Probably the same age as me. He seems completely in control of the situation. I take a risk and decide to disobey my previous orders of silence.

_Yes. He spilt ink over his suit. I was trying to help him limit the damage by soaking up some of the excess ink and he punched me in the face. Earlier he threw a cup of fresh coffee over me. It's been quite a shift sir._

If in doubt be flippant. It's the way I've always lived. No need to mention that his father is a lecherous old pervert, he's probably well aware.

I'm assaulted by a fresh wave of pain. I cry out unexpectedly and my hands fly to my jaw. I endure a moment or two of horrific agony, only for it to subside and be replaced with a most delicious feeling of calm. I open my eyes. My head is enveloped in a green glow and my tooth has been fixed. It's as sturdy as ever.

The Vice President has cured me.

I should probably point out that not one of the company executives are permitted to carry Materia. Apparently there was an _incident _in the distant past. Suffice to say, a few staff members were electrocuted and one particular manager was burned alive. Something to do with a squabble over the budget. At any other company this would be a shocking incident (pardon the pun) but here the only punishment was to remove any staff issued Materia. The Turks are the exception to the rule. We still carry Materia, but it's not a fact we broadcast. Smoke, mirrors, secrets and lies: that is the sign of a good Turk.

_Thank you, sir. _

I could be wrong, but I think he smiles at me. It's as beautiful as it is brief. God, he's attractive.

_Here._

He tosses the green orb at me. I catch it deftly with my right hand and pray that I don't drop it. How typical would it be if I dropped and smashed it? It'd add credibility to my useless persona that's for sure, but I'd never be trusted with anything again.

_I know you haven't been issued with any Materia yet. Tseng likes to remove any, ahem, temptations that may arise during guard duty. A necessary precaution don't you agree? If not, my father would've been burnt, frozen or electrocuted a thousand fold by now. _

He laughs and tosses a stray stand of hair that has had the gall to become separated from the others.

_Old Man, I'm afraid is necessary for our survival. For now. When I inherit the company, rest assured that no harm or abuse will come to you whilst guarding me. Until that day comes, use the cure Materia, master it. It will be invaluable as you continue your work. Your day will come when you are treated as a partner; not a servant._

He bends down and cups my face in his hands. My eyes find his and an unmistakable jolt of connection burns between us. He uses his thumb to wipe away a stray tear. He smiles at me and I manage a weak smile back.

_You're pretty when you smile. You'll throw people off the scent._

With that, he gets to his feet and turns away. He starts to walk down the corridor, back to where he came from. Before he reaches the shadows though, he turns around.

_I'll be wanting that Cure Materia back in the future, Elena._

Before I can reply, he has been swallowed by the shadows and I'm left on my own again outside the president's chamber. I'm no longer in pain, but I have a new feeling taking a hold of me. It's a comfort to know that someone is looking out for us all and that he is aware of the abuse we suffer at the hands of his father. I make up my mind to play the dutiful servant until my time comes. I will obey without question and will accept all that is thrown at me. For only then will my revenge be sweetest.

The vice president has given me a wonderful gift: the gift of pride and I plan to make him proud until we meet again.


End file.
